Written in 61 minutes.

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The first messenger from Braegarie reached Jason near the Cameron stronghold as he and his men followed the victorious Cameron clan back to their keep. Jason had already been planning to take Francis and split off from the group to head home, not interested in the revelry ahead of them. The laird of the Camerons understood—he’d once had an infant son at home as well.

Jason had only just taken his leave of the Camerons when the rider from Braegarie galloped through the front gates—

“Jason—the duke—the regent, I mean—” The rider leaned over to catch his breath as Jason’s heart began to pound. At the doorway, the Cameron laird turned back, squinting.

“Did Albany come on the land?”

“Aye—two days ago, there was a royal procession on the borders,” the man told him. “I don’t know what happened—Johnny and your aunt sent me to fetch you. They’ll already be at the keep—”

“What’s this?” Lewis Cameron strode forward, narrowing his aways. “What trouble do you hve with the duke of Albany?”

“I need to go,” Jaosn said, with a shake of his head as he started towards his horse. “Francis, get the men—”

“Jason, if you’ve got problem with the regent, you’ll need more than just your own people,” Lewis barked, stopping Jason in his tracks. Jason turned back to face the older man. “We have little love for the court here in the Highlanders, especially since they spend more time kissing up to the French and English than they do on our people. Are we not allies, my boy?”

“We are.” Jason pressed his lips together, and told himself that Albany would already be at the keep by now. Five minutes to give the man an explanation and hope that Cameron would offer to support him were worth the time. “My wife and I married in Edinburgh at the regent’s command. On our way back to Braegarie, men hired by someone from at the court tried to kidnap Elizabeth and kill me. We think it was Albany for reasons I cannot divulge.”

Lewis considered him with a pinched expression. “And you think he’s come to your keep now with you gone fighting? To what, retrieve your wife?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I need to return home—”

“And if he’s taken her?” the man asked. “If she’s in Stirling, or worse, back in the court, you think to lay seige to a royal capital to get her back?”

“Of course,” Jason bit out. “I have go to—”

“Aye. Send word if you need help,” Lewis told him. “I may be able to send you some men.”

Which was less than Jason hoped for, but Elizabeth wasn’t a Highland woman with a family connection he could use. All he had were his own, and if the Cameron laird wasn’t giving him his full support, then few other clans would come if he called.

He didn’t care. He’d promised Elizabeth that Albany wouldn’t come near her, and he’d failed.

He turned back to Francis. “Let’s go.”

—

By the time they reached the borders of the Morgan land, Jason knew that his worst fears had come true. There were men waiting for him, including Gannon, the guard that was supposed to be with Elizabeth with Johnny running the keep in Jason’s absence.

“Where’s my wife?” Jason demanded, as his horse drew alongside Gannon and the others. “Did Albany—”

“He came to the gates and forced his way in. I don’t know what what he said to my lady,” Gannon said, swallowing hard, “but she left with him. Willingly. She left the babe with your aunt.”

Jason exhaled on a sharp breath. “She left Cameron—”

“Of course she did, you eejit,” Francis muttered. “Albany probably threatened to lay seige to the entire keep,” he told Jason.

“I know.” But leaving Cameron behind—he’d half thought to find them both gone. She’d left her son behind.

She didn’t think she was coming back and feared for her safety.

“Let’s go,” Jason said. “I need to know what he said to her.”

—

His aunt was only too eager to tell him exactly why Elizabeth had chosen to leave, though she didn’t know the content of the conversation.

“Did you make that girl promise that her secret wouldn’t hurt the clan?” Tracy bit out as she shoved the wailing infant into his stunned father’s arms. “Two days. He only stops crying long enough to drink the milk from the wet nurse—”

Jason blinked, then looked down at his squalling son. Cameron hadn’t been separated from his mother more than a handful of hours since his birth. Two days and a new woman feeding him—he swallowed hard. “What’s this about her secret?”

“She knew that bastard would bring his men to the keep and kill anyone inside who stopped him. We might have held them off until you returned,” Tracy said, with a lift of her chin, “but she wasn’t willing to take that risk.”

“She knows you’ll come after her,” Francis assured Jason. “She made the right choice—”

“Did she?” Jason demanded. “She could be anywhere. We don’t even know if he’s taking her straight to Edinburgh or anywhere else—” He took a deep breath. “She’s been gone three days.”

“Stirling is at least nine days away—”

“Only if Albany stops to rest,” Jason reminded them both and Tracy closed her mouth. “He may not. He has to know that I’ll come after her. He’ll want to get her behind the walls of a royal castle—”

“Then Stirling is our best choice. I’ll get the men ready and send riders to call up our allies—” Johnny said.

“They may not come,” Jason said, stopping Johnny in his tracks. The Irishman turned around, confused by that pronouncement.

“Why? They’re our allies—”

“The Cameron suggested that maybe he’d send some men,” Jason muttered. He kissed his son’s head then gave him back to Tracy. “And if Lewis Cameron isn’t behind us, the Frasiers won’t be either.”

Johnny scowled. “You Highlanders are irritating as hell. I’ll make sure they come. They kidnapped your wife, Jason! And threatened to kill your people if she didn’t cooperate! If they can do it to you, why wouldn’t Lewis Cameron be next or James Frasier?”

“Send the riders.” Jason grimaced. “I won’t count on them, and I’m not waiting. I need to get to her before they reach Stirling.”

—

Elizabeth’s hands were tied to a pommel of a horse and Albany himself rode with her. She finally had a glimpse at how slowly Jason had taken their journey over a year earlier—what had taken them more than a week took Albany and his men only four days.

By the time they reached gates of the castle in Stirling, Elizabeth was exhausted and nearly fell off the horse, her wrists torn and bleeding from the ropes.

The man who dragged her off the horse scowled as she tumbled down to the courtyard. He dragged her up to her feet.

“Take her to the rose quarters,” she could dimly hear the regent bark. She wanted to protest, wanted to dig in her heels—in all the days since she’d left Braegarie, she’d thought of a thousand ways she could have dealt with Albany other than just abandoning her son and home—

But then she’d remember the people of her adopted home and how much they meant to her. Better to sacrifice herself than make them pay for her secrets, for her curse.

The room the soldiers took her to had a bed. SHe was shoved into the room and then the door was locked behind her. Elizabeth stood in the middle of the room, staring blindly at the door for a long moment. It was the first time she’d been alone since they’d taken her.

She sank to the floor, tears spilling down her cheeks. She wanted Jason to come bring her home, but if he tried to get behind the walls of the castle—they might hurt him. Even kill him.

No, better for him, for all of the people she loved, if he just gave up.

Her dreams of another year with him, of another son, of watching her baby grow into a smiling child—

Fantasies. Not visions.

She thought she might have dozed—she didn’t stand up, just rested her head against the foot of the bed and closed her eyes, too tired to even move. Then an arm grabbed her, jerking to her feet—

“What—”

She tried to focus, blinked her weary eyes until she focused on Albany who had one arm tight around her wrist—in agony from the ropes—and his arm clutching that of a small child. The little boy was wailing, calling for his mother.

“I want you to tell me his future,” Albany demanded, thrusting the boy at Elizabeth and releasing her arm. “Now!”

Elizabeth caught him, her breathing harsh as she saw a flash of an older boy being crowned—

This was James V, the boy king of Scotland, who was scarcely four years old and had been ripped away fro his mother.

“Maman!” the boy blubbered. He clutched as Elizabeth’s middle and she instinctively cuddled him closer. Flashes of him, running and playing with his mother mixed with ones of him older, holding his own daughter—then laying in bed—dying as a young man. Her heart weapt for him—what a tragically short life he’d lead—

“Tell me what you see!” Albany ordered. He dragged the king away from her grasp and Elizabeth scowled.

“No! I won’t!”

“You’ll tell me—” He hissed—then shoved the king at one of the soldiers. “Take him out and stop that screaming—”

When the king was gone, Albany turned back to her. “Tell me what you saw and I’ll let you go—”

“I don’t even need to touch you to know you’re lying,” she hissed. “And I will never tell you what I saw.”

He raised his hand, stopping just short of backhanding. “You’ll tell me—”

“Or what? What else can you take from me?” she demanded. “You’ve taken my home, my husband—” Her voice broke. “My son! There’s nothing left but my life. You may as well take that now. I will never help you.”

Albany’s hand curled into a fist and he shook it at her. “You’ll tell me what you saw—does his mother get him back? Does her brother help her and take my power—”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, mutely. He growled. “Tell me, witch!”

“You may as well burn me at the stake now. You’ve wasted your time.”

And this time he did hit her. The force of his slap sent her flying across the room and she lay crumbled on the floor, waiting for more.

Instead, she heard the door slam behind her. Elizabeth closed her eyes and wished for it to be over.

—

Two days later, Jason and his men finally reached Stirling Castle. Johnny convinced him to leave the bulk of the men outside the gates—they were still waiting for more to join them, but Jason wasn’t sure that they’d get more than the small contigent of warriors that the Frasiers and Camerons had sent.

“You think I’ll just waltz in and take her back without needing a show of force?” Jason demanded skeptically.

“I’m saying that we don’t start with an attack, no matter how angry we all are.” Johnny put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “And if you weren’t so angry, you’d see the sense in this.”

Jason glared at him, but then tugged on the reins of his horse, galloping the last few yards before the entrance to the castle.

“This isn’t going to end well,” Francis muttered. “All we can hope is that there are some men who are still loyal to the queen and hate that little rodent.”

—

Jason dismounted the horse. “Jason Morgan,” he told the guard at the entrnace. “My wife, Elizabeth, is a guest,” he bit out, “of the regent.” Johnny was right—if he just started pounding on the soldiers, he’d never get his wife back.

And he was desperate to see her, to know she was all right—it had been weeks—

“Aye.” The soldier squinted. “Lady Morgan isn’t to have any visitors. Order of the regent.”

Jason scowled. “I’m not a visitor. I’m her husband. We were married on the regent’s command—” He took a deep breath. “She’ll want news of our son.”

The soldier exchanged a glance with the other man on duty. “The, uh, lady, has been spending some time with the young king,” he said slowly. “He’s missing his mother.”

“My son misses his mother—”

“Let him pass,” the other man muttered. “Mayhap he’ll push Albany down the steps and we’ll be rid of him for good.”

“You’ll take the blame,” the first soldier returned, then stepped aside. “She’s in the rose room. Ask for Maggie inside. She’s loyal to the queen.”

—

Elizabeth sat at the window, rubbing at the scabs on her wrist. They itched fiercely as they healed from her robe burns. In the last two days, the regent had forced her to spend most of her time with the king, watching her like a hawk, hoping for something to slip. He’d also refused to feed her, hoping that her hunger would weak her resolve.

The door behind her opened but she didn’t look away from the view of the gardens. “I’ll not tell you a thing,” she muttered. “So don’t bother asking.”

“Elizabeth.”

She blinked, her lips quivering as she closed her eyes, taking in the timbre of her beloved husband’s voice. Oh, had she already grown delusional from hunger?

“Lass, if we’re to make our escape, you’ll need to look at me—”

Elizabeth launched herself off the window seat and threw herself into Jason’s arms, not even taking a moment to look at him. “You came!”

“Of course I did.” He buried his face in her neck, and tears stung her eyes. Oh, how safe she always felt in his arms. How special and beloved—

“I’m so sorry,” he told her. Jason drew back, framed her face in his hands, his eyes darkening at the cut on her cheek and the bruise beneath it. “I’ll kill him.”

“No, you can’t—” Elizabeth wrapped her hands around his wrist. “Jason—”

“We need to go. A few servants are still loyal to Margaret, but—”

It was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do, but she shook her head and stepped back from him. She’d known he’d come for her.

But she’d always known what her answer should be.

“I’m sorry. I can’t go with you.”

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